


Dream a Little Dream of Mystery

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Best Laid Plans Series [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Omegaverse, Reader-Insert, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n has nightmares that won't go away. Too bad she has to go into Bobby's head to help him out of his dreamscape.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“It just struck me...you’re asleep, aren’t you?” Sam said as you walked through what you remember as a salvage yard. The green grass and flower garden were baffling. But there was a dark feeling. You twisted at the sound of chains rattling, but there was nothing there.“Have you, uh, have you ever done this before?” Sam asked.A scream echoed through the air and you gasped, turning 360 in the grass before turning back to Sam. “What?”“You know a lot about the Dream Root, the dreamwalking. Is that just from Bobby’s books or-”“I did a little...dreamwalking with this Lakota Sioux shaman a few years ago. Why’s it matter?”“Because sometimes it feels like I don’t know a lot of what you went through while I was away at Stanford and we used to be so close.”“We were so close, Sam, but you left. You cut all ties. You wanted nothing to do with us. So, of course you don’t know that I was having trouble after my presentation, why would you?”Another scream tore through the air, loud enough for you to recognize your own voice.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/You
Series: Best Laid Plans Series [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526507
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Dream a Little Dream of Mystery

**Story Warnings:** angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, **18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!,** knotting, marking, angst, Dean dying over and over and over at the Mystery Spot...did I mention angst?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Nightmares woke you in the middle of the night... _every_ night. Somehow, you felt like the torture you endured in Hell should have been washed away by your time in the Underworld, but it wasn't. Now that you were in the world of the living again and subject to sleep and, consequently, dreams...you were reminded nightly of the agony of Hell. The smell of sulfur when Ruby was around seemed to make it worse. You barely slept a wink when you were working the witches in Sturbridge because every time you closed your eyes, Alastair was standing over you with a dagger.

Dean and John both offered you whiskey when they noticed the trouble you were having. They were so alike sometimes that it was insane. Sam bought you a pair of running shoes and said, "Exercise helps. I run every morning. It helps." But it didn't. You ran with him every morning and it helped your mood throughout the day and it helped you focus on what you were doing but it did nothing for the nightmares. The only thing that actually seemed to help was when Dean crawled into bed with you and held you to him. Between the scent of him and the warmth of the embrace, it was always enough to lull you back to sleep...usually into sweeter dreams, dreams of Dean. But it was never more than an embrace.

John left after a few weeks, saying he needed to look into a lead on the witch that cursed him back when you were barely a woman. So it was just you and Sam and Dean when the call came in that Bobby was in the hospital. You drove through the night to get to him, lying comatose in a bed in a hospital in Pittsburgh.

“So what’s the diagnosis?” Sam asked the doctor.

“We’ve tested everything we can think to test. He seems perfectly healthy,” the doctor responded.

“Except that he’s comatose,” Dean said.

The doctor turned to Dean. “Mr. Snyderson, you’re his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?”

“No, he-he never gets sick,” Dean answered.

“He doesn’t ever even catch a cold,” you said. You literally couldn’t remember Bobby ever being sick. Not in all the years you’d known him.

“Doctor, is there anything you can do?” Sam asked.

“Look, I’m sorry, but...we don’t know what’s causing it...so we don’t know how to treat it. He just...went to sleep and didn’t wake up,” the doctor answered before walking out.

“You know I haven’t even talked to him since I’ve been back,” you said, quietly, your eyes not leaving his face. “Shot him an email on New Years’ to let him know I was alive, but...should’ve picked up a phone.”

Sam reached out and put his hand on your shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’ll get to talk to him again.”

“I hope so.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?” Sam asked as you entered the motel room where Bobby was staying.

“Unless he’s taking an extremely lame vacation…” Dean started, looking around the motel room.

“He had to have been working a job,” you said, matter-of-factly.

“Well, you think there’d be some sort of sign of something, you know?” Dean said as they started pulling open drawers to find them empty. You headed for the closet. You learned to hunt under the man. You knew his process. “Research, news clippings, or a friggin’ pizza box or a beer can.”

“Right here, boys,” you said, opening the door and moving Bobby’s clothes out of the way. 

Dean chuckled and stepped up. “Good ol’ Bobby, always covering up his tracks.”

“You make heads or tails of any of this?” Sam asked as Dean reached out to pull a page from the wall and you leaned forward to read some of the writing and info.

“‘Silene capensis’, which of course means absolutely nothing to me,” Dean said. 

"It's also called 'silene undulata' or the more common 'African Dream Root' or herb depending on who's speaking. It's a sacred plant of the Xhosa people of the Eastern Cape in Africa," you answered, squinting at a post-it note. You turned to look at them when they didn’t respond. They looked shocked at your knowledge. You turned back to the pages and shook your head. “I’m dead for a year and a half and they forget that I’m the smartest bitch they ever met,” you muttered under your breath.

“Hey. Obit,” Sam said, taking a newspaper clipping from the wall and reading it. “Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist.”

“How’d he bite it?” Dean asked. 

“Um...actually, they don’t know. They say he just went to sleep and didn’t wake up,” Sam answered.

“That sounds familiar,” you mumbled.

“All right, um...so let’s say Bobby was looking into the doc’s death...you know, hunting after something-” Sam started.

“-that started hunting _him,_ ” Dean finished.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

“All right, you guys stay here. See if you can make heads or tails of this,” Dean said, gesturing at the closet.

“What are you gonna do?” you and Sam asked.

“I’m gonna look into the good doctor myself,” he said, walking out.

“These are all psychotropic mushrooms,” you said, pointing at the pictures of mushroom caps. “I’m pretty sure this is about lucid dreaming.” You turned to look up at Sam. 

“No shit?”

“Yeah. African Dream Root is used by shamans for dreamwalking. Add that to trippy shrooms and that’s what I’m thinking is our theme.”

“Okay, well, we’ll see what Dean digs up on the doctor,” Sam said, stretching his hands over his head. They almost scraped the ceiling. He sat on the end of the bed and looked at you as he tugged his jacket off. “So.”

“So?” you asked, sitting back on your heels and looking back at the closet.

“We haven’t really had a lot of time where it’s just the two of us.”

“We run together every morning,” you disputed.

“But we don’t _talk_ when we run. Or after we run. We haven’t done much talking since you’ve been back, Y/n,” Sam pointed out.

You stood and turned to him, hands on your hips. “What do you want to talk about, Sam?”

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact by looking at a spot just over your left shoulder. “Anything? You were dead, Y/n. You sold your soul for Dean.”

“Fat lot of good that did,” you snapped. “And I was dead...what’s it matter? You all moved on pretty quick from what I saw in the Underworld.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You were watching us?”

You shook your head dismissively. “Not all the time. I’d check in every once in a while. Persephone had a basin in the palace for hydromancy."

"You know how to do hydromancy?" Sam asked.

You shrugged. "I could do it in the Underworld, don't know if I can do it here."

"So...what'd you see?" he asked.

You licked your lips. "I saw Dean...sleeping with any woman who smiled at him. I saw John working...hunting and drinking a lot...and I saw you with your nose in a book half the time...no doubt trying to save Dean.”

“So, you... _watched_ Dean with-”

You grimaced and turned away to focus on the closet. “No. But when he starts kissing a chick like he needs her to breathe, then I assume they’re gonna be in bed soon after.”

“He, uh, he’s dying. He thought he should get as many notches in his belt as he could,” he said quietly as he stood.

“Makes sense.”

He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you back around to look at him. “You know...we...we kinda left things…bad. I was so mean to you when you got back.”

“I deserved it,” you responded.

“No. You didn’t deserve it. I was just so...angry that you didn’t tell me. After you were gone, I realized how stupid I was being, how you couldn’t really control your body’s reaction to him.” You looked away from him, feeling a bit ashamed of the way your body reacted to John, and Sam gently turned your head back. You got a bit lost in the softness of his hazel eyes. “When you collapsed to that hospital floor, it was like losing Jess all over again.”

You couldn’t imagine that it was anything like that. Knowing what he felt for her, how close he was to making her his mate. “Sam,” you whispered. 

“I missed you so much, Y/n.” He leaned down and hovered his lips over yours. For the first time since you showed up in their motel room, you were overwhelmed by Sam’s scent. Dean’s scent was gone from the room and Sam was right there, the smell of coffee so present. “Did you miss me in the Underworld?” he whispered.

“Y-yes,” you replied, your eyes going heavy-lidded as your head filled with Sam.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his breath warming your lips. 

You swallowed. You really hadn’t imagined Sam would be the first one to kiss you when you got back. You really thought it would be Dean, but...you supposed that was just wishful thinking. It was just a small gap to cover as you pressed your lips to his. His embrace immediately went rough, hands grabbing at your hips and dragging you against his body. He bit at your bottom lip, fingers digging in at your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He walked backward with you, twisting and dropping you both to the bed. 

“Missed you, ‘mega,” he mumbled against your mouth. 

“Alpha,” you whimpered, pulling at his shirt.

“Thought I’d never get the chance to be inside you again.” He pulled his shirts off over his head and immediately grabbed the bottom of yours. “Thought I’d never get to pop my knot in your tight omega pussy again.”

You gasped as he scratched at your sides as he pulled your shirt off. “Sam!”

He pulled back and looked down at you, breathing heavily. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No, but...this is...is this too fast?”

He licked his lips and sat up. “I’m sorry. Just...missed you and your scent has been driving me nuts since Christmas.”

You sat up and wrapped your arms around him, laying your head on his shoulder. “I know what you mean, Sam. Just...can we take it a little slower?”

“Right. I’m sure you want a reunion with Dean first,” he said under his breath, handing your shirt to you and bending down to pick his own up off the floor.

You took a deep breath and pulled your shirt on. “Don’t be like that. I’m sorry. Just not there yet.”

“Okay.”

"I mean, I was _dead_ ," you continued. It seemed like you needed to explain yourself. "I don't really think I need to jump right back on the horse, as it were. It does pose an interesting question, though. What's my heat cycle gonna be like? I can't imagine it's gonna be March, July, November anymore when I came back in December. So maybe April, August, December? Oooh, or maybe I'll get lucky and be one of those omegas that only has two a year like a damn alpha!" you mused mostly to yourself.

When you looked up, Sam had his clothes on again and was kneeling in the closet. His scent was positively dripping with annoyance. You'd managed to piss him off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean came up with the idea to go dreamwalking in Bobby's head, you were more than a little apprehensive. You lived with the man for years. You knew there were dark spots in him that he rarely let show, that they were likely used to trap him by the monster that wanted him dead. But you agreed. You didn't want to be left behind.

The thief Dean called to procure the dream root originally turned him down and with the way Sam’s scent filled with lust at the mention of her, you were actually happy about that...until she turned up at the motel anyway.

Sam was awkward with her, barely able to look at her. It didn’t take much to figure out she was the one he was drooling about in his sleep. It definitely wasn’t you since he was still irritated that you rejected him...and Dean was still keeping as much distance as possible.

Thankfully, Dean kicked Bela out of the room and Sam went about making three cups of Dream Tea. Sam added a bit of Bobby’s hair to the mugs after you explained to the brothers that you needed a part of Bobby to determine whose dream you went walking in and you all grimaced as you gulped the tea down as fast as possible.

“Feel anything?” Dean asked.

“No. You feel anything?” Sam asked.

You and Dean both shook your heads. “No.”

Dean held up his cup and examined it. “Maybe we got some bad shwag,” Dean suggested.

Thunder rolling outside the window caught your attention and you turned to look at the curtains. “When did it start raining, you guys?” you asked.

Dean stood slowly and walked over to the window, drawing open the curtains. The rain was obviously wrong but it took you a few seconds to realize what it was. “When did it start raining _upside down_?” Dean asked. You stood from the bed and immediately the room shifted around you. You were suddenly standing in a well-maintained sitting room. “Okay, I don’t know what’s weirder--the fact that we’re in Bobby’s head...or that he’s dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens.”

“Wait. Wait a sec,” Sam started. “Imagine the place, uh, without the paint job. More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place.” He gestured around the room.

“It’s Bobby’s house,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed.

You all called for Bobby but no answer came. When Sam decided to take a look outside, you followed behind him. 

“It just struck me...you’re asleep, aren’t you?” Sam said as you walked through what you remember as a salvage yard. The green grass and flower garden were baffling. But there was a dark feeling. You twisted at the sound of chains rattling, but there was nothing there.

“Yeah. We all are,” you muttered.

“But you’re not gonna wake up screaming. It’s not your nightmare.”

You swallowed heavily. “Yeah. Hopefully.”

“Have you, uh, have you ever done this before?” Sam asked, looking around.

A scream echoed through the air and you gasped, turning 360 in the grass before turning back to Sam. “What?”

“You know a lot about the Dream Root, the dreamwalking, the way this works. Is that just from Bobby’s books or-” Sam let the question hang in the air as you sighed.

“I did a little...dreamwalking with this Lakota Sioux shaman a few years ago. It was a shared dreamstate, neither my mind nor hers. Kinda in-between.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why’s it matter?”

“Because sometimes it feels like I don’t know a lot of what you went through while I was away at Stanford and we used to be so close.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “I don’t know a lot of what you went through while you were away at Stanford, either.” You turned back to him. “We _were_ so close, Sam. For half our lives we were close, but you left. You cut all ties. You wanted nothing to do with us. So, of course you don’t know that I was having trouble after my presentation so I went to the reservation to gain clarity. Why _would_ you?”

Another scream tore through the air, loud enough for you to recognize your own voice. “Is that-” Sam started but if he continued you didn’t hear it as your heart started pounding in your chest and the sky went orange, static lightning across an atmosphere of fire. He looked around, fear and apprehension in his eyes as your nightmares bled into Bobby’s.

“Oh, God,” you whispered.

“Are you doing this, Y/n?” Sam asked, grabbing your upper arms.

“I shouldn’t have come in here. I should have stayed awake. I should always stay awake. This isn’t-” you rambled, looking around as the grass became literal Hell. You buried your face in Sam’s chest to avoid looking around but you could hear it. You could smell it.

“Pretty little omega,” an intimately familiar voice teased. “Can’t wait to hear you scream.”

Your whole body shook at the sound of a knife sharpening, tears pulling from your eyes. “Y/n, there’s no one there. It’s all in your head. It’s not real,” Sam soothed.

“I’m not-I didn’t mean-Sam, I can’t.”

A hard impact of something to your head sent you tumbling to the ground. “Who are you?” a voice demanded. Not Alastair. You flipped over and looked up at a square-faced man with vivid green eyes. “You don’t belong here,” he said as the sky turned blue again.

“You’re one to talk. You’re in our friend’s head,” Sam said, giving you a look to make sure you were okay.

“You got a poor choice in friends,” the man said. “This is self defense. He came after me. He wanted to hurt me.”

“That may be because you’re a killer,” you said, moving to sit up.

“You should be nicer to me. In here...you’re just an insect. I’m a god,” he said, raising a baseball bat.

“You’re a god? What, ‘cause you can make a few things happen in someone else’s dreamscape? You’re not special,” you snapped. “You’re ridiculous, is what you are. A coward. Can’t stand up to Bobby in person, you had to kill him in his sleep?!”

The man’s eyes looked a bit wild as he scoffed. “Sweet dreams,” he said, bringing the bat down.

You gasped as you woke up, suddenly, eyes snapping open to reveal the ceiling of the motel. Sam and Dean both bolted upright, panting, but you just laid there on the bed by Dean’s pillows, your heart still racing.

“Hey, you with us, Y/n?” Dean asked, turning to look at you. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you whispered, sitting up. “Who _was_ that guy?”

“What guy?” Dean asked.

“Square-faced, green-eyes, kinda scruffy,” Sam answered.

“Short hair, beaky nose? Stoner-ish?” You and Sam nodded in response to Dean’s inquiry. “Awesome. That’ll be Jeremy, the guy I learned about Gregg’s experiment from.”

“Great. We’ll go see if we can run him down,” you said, standing and walking over to grab your jacket. “You can go check on Bobby.”

Sam followed you out to Bobby’s Chevelle. “So, uh...you...you affected the dream pretty well,” he said as he sat in the passenger seat.

“Yeah. Probably because it’s not my first rodeo.” 

“But you didn’t do it on purpose,” Sam pointed out.

“Of course not. You think I had any control over what happened?”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “So, that’s why you can’t sleep at night.”

“You don’t even know, Sam.” You bit your lip and blinked away tears. “I didn’t really sleep in the Underworld.”

“That’s what Hell was like?” he asked and you laughed, loud and raucous.

“A little. That was...a glimpse. A _small_ glimpse. You can’t even begin to imagine th-the pain. The fear, the-” Your words caught in your throat and you cleared it to dislodge them. “-the hopelessness of that place.”

Sam reached out and put his hand on your knee. “I don’t want to think about Dean there.”

You licked your lips. “If I could trade places with him again, I would,” you whispered.

“I would, too.”

“Don’t be stupid, Sam.”

“Why’s that stupid?” he asked, obviously offended. “You just said-”

“If I were anywhere close to as important as you, it’d be stupid for me to say it too.” You shot him a look as you rolled to a stop at a light. “You can’t think like that. We save Dean...no ifs, ands, or buts.”

Sam just nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days of staying awake to try to find Jeremy before he could get into Dean or Bobby’s heads. Sam still slept, but you stayed awake with them. You weren’t going to sleep well anyway. Eventually, Dean decided to go to sleep anyway, and Sam decided to go in with him, plucking out some of his hair. “We’re comin’ in with you,” Sam said.

“No, you’re not,” Dean snapped.

“Why not? At least then it’ll be three against one,” Sam argued.

Dean looked like he didn’t know how to respond for a minute before he nodded slightly. “‘Cause I don’t want you digging around in my head.”

“Too bad,” you and Sam said at the same time.

Sam moved to pull out the root as Dean looked at you in the backseat. “Does _she_ have to come? I mean, what if she sees something I don’t want-”

“I’d be more worried about what she’s gonna bring _into_ your head, Dean,” Sam said quietly.

“It’s not gonna happen,” you said, watching Sam make the tea.

“ _What’s_ not gonna happen?” Dean asked.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Won’t happen.” You were determined to keep control of your nightmares.

You and Sam drank the tea and fell asleep. The three of you woke up still in the Impala and a noise outside moved you to get out of the vehicle and explore. As you got further out in front of the car, music started playing from nowhere. ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’, which was so apt considering the scene that appeared. A beautiful brown-eyed brunette sitting on a gingham blanket with a picnic laid out before her smiled up at Dean.

“Hey. You gonna sit down?” she asked. Dean stood stiff, just looking at her. She reached out to grab a glass of red wine from the basket. “Come on. We only have an hour before we have to pick Ben up from baseball.” She held the wine out to him, still smiling brightly at him.

Dean looked back at you and Sam, his eyes a little misty. “I’ve never had this dream before.” It was an obvious lie and your heart hurt. No wonder he was keeping his distance. He turned back to look at her and Sam stepped closer. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he demanded and you looked away completely.

“Sorry,” Sam said.

“Dean. I love you,” the other woman said.

Lights flashed and the Mamas and the Papas disappeared. You looked over to see the woman and the picnic gone. “Where’d she go?” Dean asked.

Sam brought your attention to the trees, where Jeremy was watching. The three of you took off running after Jeremy. It wasn’t very long before you were separated from the boys, lost in the woods. 

“Never gonna be able to listen to that song again, are you?” You stiffened at the words and turned to the voice. John was leaning against a tree, but the yellow eyes told you it was the demon, Azazel. “ _Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’,_ ” he sang and your throat clenched. “The night breezes are the only ones ever gonna say it, am I right?”

“You’re not real,” you said, pointing at him.

“Nah, sweetheart, I’m _you_. I’m all the things you know deep-down that you refuse to think in your waking hours.” He pushed off from the tree trunk and hopped forward a little. “Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, huh? It’s not the memories of Hell that are getting to you, it’s the fact that you’re just as _hopeless_ on Earth as you were in the Pit. Dean’s giving you nothing to work with and Sam, well, little Sammy sure seems to want to get his knot in you again, but lust is the only thing he’s giving you.”

“Shut up. You’re not supposed to be here. This is Dean’s head.”

“But you took the dream root, Y/n, and you have a complete lack of control.” Azazel smiled a bit cruelly. “So here I am.”

You shook your head. “Will you please just go away? I have enough to deal with without me...pressing my own buttons.”

“Ah, but I love to press your buttons, baby. Like, did you know that your name was hardly mentioned the entire time you were gone?” You squeezed your eyes shut in pain. You’d wondered how fast they moved on, but hearing the words... “You killed yourself, sentenced your soul to eternal torture for Dean and he barely spoke your name after that. He immediately threw himself at any woman he could and he’s _dreaming_ of this other chick?”

“Stop,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Dreaming of picnics and baseball games. Damn. He ever do anything domestic and normal like that with you?” Tears rolled down your face and you wiped them away as Azazel stepped closer. “No. He hunted with you. He fucked you. He _used_ you...but he’s never going to love you. Never gonna mark you. You are never gonna be anything more to him. No life together. No pups. No normal.”

“Who says I want normal, huh?!” you shouted. “I don’t give a fuck about normal. I haven’t been anything close to normal since Bobby started training me! I don’t want nor-”

“No, but Dean obviously does!” Azazel shouted back, suddenly right in front of you. He twisted John’s lips into a cruel smile again. “Dean doesn’t want you, Y/n. You sold your soul for him and he doesn’t want you. Hell, the first few times you tried to get him, he rejected you, didn’t he? Ya know what I think? I think he never really got over the fact that you’ve been stretched open on his daddy’s knot. What do you think?”

You bit your lip harshly and turned away. A hand wrapped around your neck and you were suddenly pressed into a tree. “I think you’re never going to have what you want, little omega,” Azazel whispered in your ear.

You gasped as you woke, sitting up in the back of the Impala. You turned away and hid your face in your hands to hide the tears there. “Everybody okay?” you asked when you were sure you were tear-free.

“Y-yeah. All good,” Dean answered. “How’d you guys-”

“Wasn’t me,” you answered, opening the door and stepping out of the car. Your heart was hurting, your body exhausted. You walked away and considered not coming back. Your hand found its way into your pocket, rubbing the drachma to soothe yourself. You could bury it. Hades would find you. Maybe you should just go back to the Underworld.

“Y/n! Get it together! Let’s go!” Dean shouted out the window of his car. You took a deep breath and turned back to the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who is she?" you asked, looking at your lap. Sam was packing, Dean was on a supply run to fuel the search for Bela after she walked out with the Colt, you were wallowing about what you'd seen in Dean's head...your dreams and his. "The woman...with the picnic basket?"

"Lisa. She's...an omega Dean had a one-night stand with when he was nineteen or twenty."

"He dreams about picnics with some woman from a decade ago?" you asked, quietly.

"Um, not really...uh." Sam sat next to you and ran his hand through his hair. "After he made his deal, he looked up some old names. Lisa was one of 'em. She's got a son now and the whole normal _thing_."

"Oh." Normal. She was normal. Of course she was. Not a resurrected hunter who lost her virginity to his father and gave her soul to save his life. Your nightmare Azazel had been right. Dean wanted normal. You were never going to be what he wanted.

“So, what did you see? When we got separated, what’d you see?” Sam asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing important.”

He reached over and took your hand. “More of your own nightmares?” he asked, softly, empathetically. Like he already knew the answer.

“It’s not a big deal. I just saw the Yellow-Eyed demon. Didn’t even bring Hell in this time. I did better in Dean’s head than Bobby’s. It’s fine,” you dismissed.

Sam squeezed your hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “You’re not fine, but you’re gonna be. I know you’re upset about Dean.”

You swallowed and looked away. “I’m just...I sacrificed myself for him, ya know? I fucking went to _Hell_ for him and he replaced me immediately. Fuck, was my body even done smoking before he was flirting with Jo Harvelle, and fucking Tara Benchley and-and dreaming of _Lisa_? God, I never expected him to love me but I wish he had mourned me a little.”

Sam didn’t respond, just wrapping you in a hug and holding you to his chest. “Let it go, Y/n,” he whispered. It took a minute of him soothing you before you were able to let the tears go. Sam shushed you and rubbed his hand across your back. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/n.”

You didn’t feel like it was going to be okay, but...you also didn’t feel any lust in his embrace. So maybe your nightmare wasn’t right. You grabbed at his shirt and moved yourself closer to him. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“I’m here for you.”

The door opened and Dean walked in, avoiding looking at you and Sam sitting on the bed. “Car’s loaded. Let’s get outta here.”

You nodded and pulled away from Sam to stand. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 7:30 am, the alarm clock on the bedside table went off, the radio playing loud. Dean was already awake, tying his boots. “Rise and shine, Sammy!” he shouted over Asia’s ‘Heat of the Moment’. You sat up from the cot in the corner and stretched as the brothers talked about the song. 

“You argue like an old married couple,” you teased before slipping into the bathroom to get your morning routine done before the boys took the bathroom.

“ _You’re_...old,” Dean shot back as the door shut behind you.

You took a quick shower with scent-neutralizing shower gel and lathered on scent blocker cream. You brushed your teeth, took your suppressants and left the bathroom to the boys. After they got done, you went to breakfast. Phil’s Diner was right down the street. The three of you piled into a booth, Sam sliding in beside you. Dean looked over at the specials and smiled. “Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

“You even know what that is?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

The waitress walked up and pulled out her pen and pad. “You guys ready?”

“Yes. I’ll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee,” Dean answered.

“Make it two coffees and a short stack,” Sam said, turning to look at you. “You ready?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll have a cup of coffee, too, and the Southern Skillet, eggs over easy.”

“You got it,” the waitress, Doris according to her nametag, said, walking away.

Dean rested his arm along the back of the booth and looked around. “I’m telling you, guys, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela.”

“Okay, sure, let’s get right on that. Where is she again?” Sam snapped.

“Shut up.”

“Look. Believe me, I want to find her as bad as you do,” Sam said, pulling out his papers. “In the meantime, we have this.”

“All right, so this professor,” Dean started, opening up the clippings and papers.

“Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished,” you said. Sam’s thigh knocked into yours as he adjusted his position in the booth.

“Last known location?” Dean asked.

“His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot,” Sam filled in.

“Where the laws of physics have no meaning,” Dean read out loud from a flyer for the Mystery Spot.

Doris approached with the coffees and a bottle of hot sauce but she dropped it and shattered the bottle. You discussed the case as you ate. Dean was adamant that it was nothing, but Sam was sure it was real. You sided with Sam and the three of you ended up in the Mystery Spot after dark that night.

It was neon green painted spirals and blacklight paint. It was things nailed in at awkward angles and so much cheesy tourist trap shit that you couldn’t handle it. When the owner showed up with a shotgun, the three of you tried to calm him, but he was strung too tight. 

“You robbin’ me?” he demanded.

“Look, nobody’s robbing you. Calm down,” Sam said.

“Don’t move!” the owner shouted, turning the shotgun on Dean.

“Just puttin’ the gun down,” Dean said, but the man didn’t hear him. His finger twitched on the trigger and the shotgun went off, hitting Dean square in the chest. You screamed as he fell to the floor. You and Sam rushed to his side, ordering the owner to call 911. 

“No, no, no, please, no,” you begged, watching the light go out of Dean’s eyes. When he closed them and his body went slack in Sam’s arms, you felt like you might throw up. 

But then you were on your back in that tiny cot. Asia playing loudly over the radio alarm clock on the side table. Dean was alive. It was Tuesday again. You and Sam remembered the day before, but...no one else did. Not Dean, not Doris at the diner, not Mr. Pickett, the old man who hit Dean with his car as you and Sam were trying to convince him of the day replaying itself.

“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep watching him die, Sam,” you whispered on the fourth Tuesday, as Dean brushed his teeth. Seeing him smashed by that heavy desk the night before was devastating.

“I know. I can’t either, but...how do we stop it? How do we fix this?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head. “I don’t _know_. But I can’t, Sam.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam promised.

But a hundred Tuesdays later, a hundred deaths by a hundred different means, and you had to watch every single one of them. It was Tuesday 100 when Dean found out the blond he checked out after bumping into her was Hasselback’s daughter and Sam ran with that information. The two of you researched into the man’s background.

“So, the police report says Dexter Hasselback is a professor, but that’s not all he is,” Sam said.

“What is he?” Dean asked.

“We talked to his daughter. Guy’s quite the journalist. Columns in magazines, a blog. He writes about tourist attractions. Mystery spots, UFO crash sites. He gets his kicks debunking them. I mean, he’s already put four of these places out of business. Here,” Sam said, turning his laptop to show Dean the professor’s blog. 

Dean raised an eyebrow as he read the page you and Sam had read a dozen times. “Dexter Hasselback, truth warrior? More like a pompous schmuck, you ask me.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, I’ve read everything the guy’s ever written, and he must have weighed a ton, he was so full of himself,” Sam said.

“When’d you have time to do all this research?” Dean asked, looking across the table at you and Sam.

Neither of you really answered. “Come on.” Sam put his laptop into its carrying bag and stood from the booth. Dean grabbed the bill and started laughing. “What?”

“I just...it’s just funny, ya know. I mean, this guy spends his whole life crapping on mystery spots and then he vanishes into one. It’s kinda poetic, ya know. Just desserts,” Dean explained, before heading to the register.

“You’re right, that _is_ just desserts,” Sam agreed, before looking over at a plate on the diner bar. As soon as your eyes followed his, you knew what caught his focus. Pink syrup on a half-eaten pancake. _Pink_ syrup.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“It’s strawberry,” you said, pointing at the syrup bottle.

“Guy has maple syrup for the last hundred Tuesdays, all of a sudden he’s having strawberry?”

“It’s a free country. Man can’t choose his own syrup, huh? What have we become?” Dean joked.

“Not in this diner. Not today. Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. Except us.”

“It’s a Trickster god,” Sam said in the morning as Dean brushed his teeth. “I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to figure this out.”

“Okay, Tricksters are pretty powerful. One could reliably come up with this time loop. So, we get to work on a stake and hope Dean stays alive long enough to track ‘pancakes at the bar’ down.”

It took another few Tuesdays to get the stake made in the amount of time that Dean was in the bathroom. You tracked down the trickster god. Sam attacked him, accused him of being a trickster and said, “We’ve killed one of your kind before!” 

The man morphed into another man, a blond man with golden-hazel eyes. “Actually, bucko, you didn’t.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sam demanded.

“You’re joking, right? You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why _wouldn’t_ I do this?” the Trickster replied.

“And Hasselback, what about him?” Dean asked.

The Trickster looked to Dean. “That putz? He said he didn’t believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one.” The pagan god laughed. “Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town.”

“So this is fun for you?” Sam bit out. “Killing Dean over and over again?”

“One, yes--It is fun. And two? This is _so_ not about killing Dean. This joke is on you and Miss Priss over there, Sam. Watching your brother and her lover die, every day. Forever.” 

“You son of a bitch,” Sam growled.

“How long will it take you to realize? You can’t save your brother. No matter what.”

“Oh, yeah? I kill you, this all ends now.” Sam pressed the stake into the Trickster’s carotid and it started squirming.

“Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay! Look, I was just playing around. You can’t take a joke, fine. You’re out of it. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and it’ll be Wednesday. I swear.”

“You’re lying,” you accused.

“If I am, you know where to find me...having pancakes at the diner.”

Sam looked to you and Dean, then back to the Trickster. “No. Easier to just kill you.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Can’t have that,” the Trickster said before snapping his fingers.

You had never been so happy to hear Huey Lewis and the News on the radio alarm clock. You smiled at Sam, ecstatic when Dean revealed he remembered the day before. It all came crashing down, of course, when the gunshot rang out in the parking lot. Dean was dead...on Wednesday...and you and Sam didn’t wake up again. You threw up on the wet concrete beside the Impala as you realized Dean wasn’t coming back this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam changed after. He started hunting like a machine. You thought of him as a T-900 multiple times. He never smiled. Barely slept. Killed monsters like a robot. He was absolutely no help to you in your state of mourning...but John wasn’t answering his phone so you only had Sam. 

“Sam. I’m gonna need a couple days,” you said on April 24, when you got the first twinges of your heat.

“No,” he answered, barely looking up from where he was cleaning Dean’s gun.

“Why not?”

“We have a vampire nest to get to,” he said.

“Sam...I’ll meet up with you. If I time this right-” you started, but he stood and looked down at you.

“You can’t keep yourself under control long enough for us to get to Austin?” he asked, hazel eyes catching yours.

You swallowed heavily and looked away. “It’s not about me keeping control-”

Sam reached out and wrapped his hand around your neck. “I’ll keep control _for_ you, Y/n.”

You shivered as he backed you up into the wall. “S-Sam, I...I don’t know if we should-”

“Shut up,” he demanded, pressing his body against yours. “I’m your alpha, Y/n. It was me and Dean, and he’s gone. So, it’s me. Say you understand, Omega.”

“I understand,” you said on a breath.

His hand tightened around your neck and he leaned down to scent you. “When you go into heat, I’m going to mark you,” he whispered and your whole body filled with tingling arousal. “I’m gonna fuck you full of cum and then I’m finally gonna get my teeth in you.”

“Sam,” you whimpered.

He took a step back and walked back over to the table, leaving you standing on weak legs. “You’ve got another eighteen hours before you’re in heat, though. We can get to Austin in that.” You just stared after him, a bit in shock. “Get packed. Let’s get out of here. Now.”

You nodded and moved to grab your bags. By the time you made it to Austin, you could barely stand. The fever and cramps were too much, too big and horrible. When your scent got too strong, Sam just rolled down the window. Sam left the bags in the car and wrapped your arms around his neck. You were more than willing to cling to the alpha as he walked you into a motel room and kicked the door closed behind him.

“Get your clothes off,” he said, dropping you to the bed. You moved on autopilot, your hands pulling your sweat-soaked shirt off over your head. Your fingers trembled as you pulled at the button of your jeans and the zipper. He grabbed your pockets and yanked the pants down your legs. “Bra.” He gestured at your covered breasts and you reached under your body to unclasp your bra.

Sam’s hands dug into your waist, manhandling you to the edge of the bed and forcing your legs open. He leaned over you, looking into your eyes. “Pretty little omega. So wet and needy,” he whispered and you whimpered. “You need a knot, Y/n?”

“Please, Alpha,” you begged.

He smirked as he dragged his right hand down your body to hover over your mound. “You’re _my_ omega, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, your mind flashing to Dean. You knew you would never see him again, so there was only one answer. “Yours, Sam.” His thumb slipped between your pussy lips and gently rubbed across your clit, making you jerk and gasp. It wasn’t enough pressure. As strung out as you were, it wasn’t enough. You squirmed under him, but he put a hand on your abs to keep you in place. “Sam,” you whined. “ _Please_.”

“Shut up,” he said, reaching up with his free hand to pinch your nipple between his thumb and first finger. You gasped as he twisted the sensitive bud painfully. “You remember in Pittsburgh, how you told me to take it slow?” You squirmed under his hands and his dark gaze. “How you rejected me?”

“I wasn’t trying to re-”

“I said ‘shut up’.” His hand moved lightning-fast and slapped across your breast. You squeaked, pain translating to pleasure and settling between your thighs. “You didn’t want me then, haven’t made a move since, and now, suddenly you need me. You’re in heat so suddenly you _need_ me.”

“Sam, I’m sorr-”

His hand cut across your breast again. “I don’t want to hear it. I want to hear ‘Alpha, please’. I want to hear ‘I’m yours’. I want to hear ‘Fill me with pups’.” His thumb pressed harder into your clit and your whole body curled in on itself.

“Alpha, please!” you begged.

“Say the rest of it,” he demanded, pushing your body flat on the bed again. 

Your heart was pounding, your body in fevered agony. “I’m yours, Sam. Please. I need you. Fill me up with pups, Alpha, please.”

He growled, the loud rumble tearing through your sweat-soaked skin and into your bones. “Present, Omega.”

Again, you moved on autopilot, flipping over onto your hands and knees. The sound of Sam’s belt buckle jingling, the sound of his zipper pulling down, the rustling of denim and cotton, all worked together to have you shaking with anticipation by the time you felt the bed dip behind you. You wrapped your hands in the sheets, clinging to them to ground you. He set the head of his thick cock against your entrance and slammed his hips forward, his cock burying in you in one thrust that made you scream.

His pace was relentless, his body hard and unrelenting as he fucked you with abandon. Your cries devolved into a litany of curse words. Sam just growled out “Mine,” and “Not theirs,” and “Always mine.” He fitted his hand around your neck as his knot started inflating, his long fingers tugging your head to the side to grant him access to your skin. 

His teeth dug into your neck before you were conscious of his mouth descending. Your scream rang out across the motel room, your cunt clenching in pleasure-pain. His knot locked in your pussy immediately after, but he kept rocking against you, pushing himself over the edge. You felt his cock twitch, filling you full of alpha cum. His tongue rolled across your mark, licking at the blood drops. 

“Fuck, Sam. That hurt,” you whined.

“You’re fine,” he replied, pushing you onto your side to get comfortable. “Get some sleep. We’ll go again in a few hours.”

As your eyes drifted closed, your pussy throbbing on his knot, you couldn’t help thinking of Dean. You missed him. You knew Sam was your truemate, he had to be, but Dean...Dean had been everything you ever wanted, even if he didn’t want you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a little disorienting to wake up on Wednesday, Huey Lewis playing on the radio, even though you and Sam both watched the Trickster snap his fingers to make it happen. As soon as you sat up, your hand shot to your neck. Pristine skin over your scent gland. You let out a sigh of relief and stood. Dean was standing in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. You looked away, overwhelmed by the fact that he was alive.

“What, you gonna sleep all day?” he asked, looking at Sam. 

Sam threw his blanket off of him and rushed to hug Dean, ignoring the comments about the radio playing Huey Lewis instead of Asia. You just started packing. You had a sick feeling in your stomach. You felt dirty and uncomfortable in the brothers’ presence. Sam told Dean to get packed and not to go into the parking lot alone. Dean waited by the door, looking between you and Sam’s far-off expressions.

“Hey, you two don’t look so good. Something else happen?” Dean asked.

Sam looked at you, eyes falling on your mark-free neck. “I just had a really weird dream,” he answered.

Dean nodded, as you pushed past him to head to the parking lot with your duffel slung over your shoulder. “Clowns or midgets?” you heard Dean ask as you pulled open the back of the Impala and set your bag down.

You had your face buried in a book by the time the brothers made it outside.


End file.
